Blame Game
by gator-md
Summary: [August NJC]Booth and Brennan come to an understanding.


Disclaimer: Don't own it.

A/N: August NJC. The Backseat by Zornik. So despite being a lyrics person, what struck me about this song was the sound and the feel of the music. To me there was an anxious quality about it that resonated with me. This is the result…just a snapshot really…Contains spoilers/references to Stargazer in a Puddle and Judas on a Pole. Thanks to _A_ taking a gander….

Brennan pushed past the reporters crowded at the back of the courtroom. Despite the sensitive nature of the evidence presented by Max Keenan, the FBI lawyers had pushed for the trial to be open to the press. Perhaps in hopes of convincing the public that the FBI would not cover up the actions of a few dirty agents, no matter how high up the corruption went, Max Keenan's case had been the talk of the District. Especially once it had come to light that Dr. Temperance Brennan, best-selling author and consultant to the FBI, was the daughter of the accused. The sensationalistic nature of the murders Keenan had committed in the past year had made it a noteworthy case from the beginning, his daughter made it buzzworthy.

Booth quickly followed his partner, ignoring the microphones and cameras aimed in his direction. Entering the hallway, his eyes swept over the assembled crowds. It was filled with a menagerie of those awaiting the fates of loved ones, preoccupied lawyers, and more reporters hoping for a reaction from anyone involved in Keenan's case. Booth noticed them focused on Brennan, who was standing in front of a window at the end of the hallway looking out at the courtyard below. He was surprised that they seemed to be giving her some room, almost as if respecting her right to some semblance of privacy. He started towards her. As he got closer, he recognized by the set of her shoulders that they weren't giving her room, she was taking it. He smiled to himself---only Brennan could intimidate the insatiable press on their own turf.

He joined her at the window, but said nothing. Imperceptibly to all but the keenest observer, she slightly relaxed as she intuitively recognized Booth's presence. Without turning around, he felt the eyes of the reporters boring into them. Though he was sure he was imagining it, it seemed as if it had actually gotten quieter as they hoped to catch a snippet of conversation. He wasn't going to give them the quote they were hoping for and he knew Brennan wouldn't. She was sick of being the center of attention and speculation. Leno had already made her a punch line when he suggested Max might not be in trouble with the law if he had followed his daughter's instructions on how to dispose of a body as detailed in _Red Tape White Bones_.

Booth didn't think it would take the jury long to decide Max Keenan's fate. He was guilty. Booth knew it. Brennan knew it. The jury knew it. The only question that remained was what sentence he would receive. The defense had made a compelling case about the mitigating circumstances surrounding Max's actions, but Booth wasn't sure if they'd been negated by the grisly photos of the burned crucified corpses the prosecution had displayed throughout the trial. Brennan had been stoic throughout the trial. He had tried to get her to talk about it, but she had both refused and dodged his every attempt. In the back of his mind he was worried that she blamed him. After all, he had arrested her father. Though he knew Max had chosen his own fate, it didn't change the fact that Booth had led him handcuffed through the corridors of the Hoover building and read him his rights. Brennan said she had understood, but he wasn't sure. And he wasn't sure he blamed her. Recognizing there was nothing to be gained from this train of thought, he turned towards her. She seemed to be lost in her thoughts as she stared out the window, a wistful expression on her face.

Quietly, he said, "Bones, you wanna get out of here?" He nodded his head in the direction of the exit. She followed his glance, but shook her head no in response. He knew she felt compelled to wait here in the courthouse, where her father also waited as others meted out his punishment. He understood the compulsion, but wanted to shield her from the prying eyes of the press. "Follow me." He started to move away from the window and for a moment he wasn't sure she was going to follow, but then she fell in behind him. He walked directly through the gaggle of reporters, glaring at them…daring them to try and impede their progress. A few questions followed in their wake, but they were more perfunctory than anything else---asked because they were supposed to ask, not because they expected an answer.

Booth walked directly to one of the waiting rooms reserved for lawyers and their clients. He pushed open the door. A bailiff approached, but stopped when Booth flashed his credentials at him. Brennan entered the room and, as the door closed, sank into one of the chairs at the table. Away from the spotlight, she allowed her stoic façade to crumble for the first time. Booth was surprised. He knew the trial had taken its toll on her, but she had steadfastly and in a very Brennan-like way refused to acknowledge the emotional damage watching her father on trial was inflicting on her state of mind. Now her shoulders slumped and she leaned heavily on the table, her hands clasped in front of her. Booth pulled up a chair next to her. She shifted slightly to face him, a lost look in her eyes. She still said nothing. Hesitantly, not sure whether she would accept the comfort he was offering, he placed one of his hands on top of hers. A trace of smile graced her lips at the feel of his hand on hers.

After a moment, she spoke, but didn't look at him. "The past few months, all I wanted was for it to be over, but now that it's here…" She trailed off. He said nothing, but gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. "He's going to jail, Booth. And I know he deserves it, but…"

"But he's your father, Bones. I know. And I wish this could end differently, but it can't." Their eyes met as Booth finished. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears. Everything she had been holding back had surfaced and was threatening to overwhelm her. "I know this doesn't help, but Max chose this. He chose you."

"He's going to die in prison, because of that choice---because of me." A solitary tear made its way from her eye down the curve of her cheek where it hung suspended on her chin until it finally fell.

"You're worth it, Bones." She started to deny it, but his look quelled her. "Max left you once. He couldn't do it again, even if it means spending the rest of his life behind bars." His words hung in the air between him, before he continued. "He knew exactly what he was doing. Your dad's a smart guy." Cocking an eyebrow at her, he said, "Apparently, it runs in the family." Despite the gravity of the situation, she shook her head in faint amusement at his words.

Softly she said, "Thanks, Booth." He immediately shrugged off her words. She pulled one of hands from his grasp and placed it on top of his, effectively sandwiching it between hers. He glanced down at their joined hands and then back up at her, a curious expression on his face. "I…" She swallowed and took a breath before continuing. "I'm not good at this and normally, I'd ask you, but it's about you, so…" He tried not to smile, but he rarely saw her so flustered. "I know you feel responsible for all of this, but I really do understand and I don't blame you, Booth."

The light moment was forgotten as her words washed over him. He hadn't realized how much he had needed to her say it out loud. His jaw clenched as relief flooded through him. His eyes dropped from hers and focused on their hands. Without looking up, he quietly said, "Thanks, Bones." They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, but maintaining a connection through their joined hands.

They were startled from their thoughts by a knock on the door. Instinctively, they quickly moved apart. Brennan dragged a hand down her face as though trying to erase any evidence of her internal turmoil. Booth gave her a moment to compose herself before he called, "Come in."

The door opened and the bailiff stuck his head in and said, "Jury's back." Before either could respond, he was gone, closing the door behind him.

As Booth stood, he watched Brennan transform back into the stoic woman who had held the reporters at bay. Standing, she squared her shoulders and took a calming breath, mentally preparing herself for the inevitable. "Ready?"

Nodding, her voice betraying no emotion and her expression carefully guarded, she answered. "Ready." He opened the door and followed her out. Together they made their way back to the courtroom, where her father awaited his fate.


End file.
